


In Which Cupid's Arrow Comes From an Unlikely Source

by gallifreyanlibertea



Series: OTP "Drabble" Challenge [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 06:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15164993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyanlibertea/pseuds/gallifreyanlibertea
Summary: Arthur may have accidentally shot his fiancé.





	In Which Cupid's Arrow Comes From an Unlikely Source

**Author's Note:**

> 69\. “Quit flirting.” - “I didn’t mean to-”
> 
> WARNING: Just wanted to include this so I don't trigger anyone but there is a small mention of injury but it only goes as far as a sentence I believe.

Arthur turned upon hearing the crackling of dried leaves on the ground behind him, jumping immediately to his feet. His hand drew an arrow from his quiver in instinct. 

The forest was a dangerous place, but his parents never doubted his ability to protect himself from the beasts that lurked in it. The guards posted at its far corners ensured that Arthur would be safe from human intruders, so Arthur needed only his trusty bow and arrow for protection- a bow he kept on the ground at his side as he nibbled on the fruits and pastries he’d brought with him that day, in a basket, to enjoy at the foot of a tree. With the birds chirping above him, sunlight streaming weakly through the gaps in the crowns of the trees, it was a serene place. It was serene in its quietness. Arthur could very easily hear the smallest disturbance, and fortunately so.

Arthur hardly ever missed his lethal aim, but he supposed it was good that he missed this time. That is, seeing as what he thought was an animal that rustled the stems of the plants behind him had been, instead, Arthur’s fiancé, stumbling through the bushes with Arthur’s arrow in his shoulder.

“King Alfred?” Arthur shrieked, scrambling to his feet, “You- why are you-?”

“Hi,” Alfred choked out, leaning against a tree, hand clutching his shoulder, “Wow, they weren’t lying when they said I had to be careful around you.”

Arthur didn’t know much about the King of Spades. He knew only that Alfred had inherited the throne at a young age, that his kingdom was one of the largest and most formidable ones in all the land, and that Arthur was supposedly destined to marry him. 

A strange mark had appeared on Arthur’s shoulder and suddenly, he was relevant. His family’s small castle, hidden in the hills, was now always full of people, full of nobles congratulating his parents in an obvious attempt to get in good favor with the family of the future Queen of Spades. Arthur hated it. He hated the days that led up to his engagement, so he took to the forest for most of his day. He enjoyed the view of his ringless hand sifting through the grass, his crownless head laying down beside the weeds where his father couldn’t chide him for dirtying up his appearance-  _people are looking at you now, Arthur, you need to keep up with their expectations._

It was annoying, to say the least, but Arthur hadn’t minded the idea of an arranged marriage in general. It left him no pressure to fall in love on his own, and Alfred hadn’t been too bad-looking either. Arthur recalled when the portrait had first been unveiled, of Alfred’s broad-shouldered, strong-jawed husband-to-be.

Arthur had commented then, with a snicker, that the King had probably inflated his assets in the painting, but Arthur found that Alfred was somehow more attractive out of frame. Alfred looked younger in person. 

He seemed, somehow, more handsome now, with his dirt-streaked face and his lips spread in a giddy-

“Why in god’s name are you smiling?” Arthur said incredulously, fingers gingerly brushing Alfred’s shoulder. Alfred seemed too preoccupied to wince.

“You’re so  _handsome.”_

Arthur paused from busying himself with addressing Alfred’s wound. He raised his eyebrows, “I’m what?”

And Alfred grinned as if the comment was a matter of fact. It was as if he hadn’t said it as a compliment, but rather as a statement of the obvious. Arthur’s cheeks flushed pink at the thought.

“I mean- I didn’t know what you looked like!” Alfred said, “I came here to find out. It’s not fair that you got to see my portrait but you never sent one of yourself, now, come on, I was terrified you were going to be some  _old man!”_

Arthur blinked. Alfred grew younger before his very eyes with that voice of his, far from the deep rich one Arthur had imagined would belong to a king of a powerful kingdom. It was a little…  _loud_ … charming, nonetheless, but Arthur wondered just how young Alfred was.

Alfred continued in Arthur’s quizzical silence, “Well, you’d think the way your guards told me where to find you that you were  _ancient._  ‘Goes to the forest to collect his thoughts’, ‘might also be rearranging the books in his library’, jeez-”

Arthur huffed, “I beg your pardon?”

Alfred laughed, arm reaching out to lean against a tree before he was rudely made aware of the arrow lodged in it. He grimaced, drawing his arm back to his side. “Well, you’re handsome, thank god. Not at all like I imagined, though, but you’ve got pretty green eyes- I thought they’d be grey or something, but green is good too! And you’ve got,” Alfred squinted, “Oh wow, you’ve got freckles. I’ve always had a particular weakness for freckles,  _if you know what I mean-”_

“Wh- why are you-? Are you not in pain right now?” Arthur stammered, “Quit flirting!”

“Flirting? Am I doing that?” Alfred’s brows furrowed, “I didn’t mean to- you’re just so-”

“I’m taking you to my castle’s infirmary,” Arthur interjected, cheeks aflame. “Follow me.”

Arthur’s parents had nearly shot an arrow into Arthur himself at the sight of Alfred wounded, but only after Alfred was out of sight, whisked away by castle medics while Arthur’s parents watched after him with saccharine smiles, turning to Arthur with heated glares as soon as the infirmary doors closed.

“You  _shot_ King Alfred of Spades?” Arthur’s father seethed, to which Arthur winced.

“He crept up on me!”

Arthur escaped the scrutiny when he was called to Alfred’s bedside to work magic on Alfred’s bandaged shoulder. They were elementary spells, really, Arthur was yet to be intensively trained on magic that was beyond basic healing and illusions to entertain children, but Alfred watched Arthur like he was a god, “You can do  _magic?_ That’s so-  _wow._ ”

And Arthur’s spell faltered with the smile that quirked on his lips. “You’ve never seen magic before?”

“I’ve heard of it, but-” Alfred blinked incredulously, “Wow, my parents are really holding out on me with information about you.”

Needless to say, Arthur had been forced to accompany the King back to his castle in an attempt to  _regain favor_ , despite Alfred insisting that he didn’t mind their first meeting via arrow injury. 

Alfred’s lips parted for words as soon as Arthur finally met his gaze rather than eyeing the floor of the carriage, the scenery outside the window, anything so he wouldn’t have to risk being bombarded with even more of Alfred’s appreciative babbling. Arthur didn’t like to blush. It was a sign of weakness. It was  _embarrassing._

“Sorry if I got you in trouble. In all fairness, I did come in unannounced.” Alfred said. His eyebrows shot up in sudden fascination. “But if it meant I’d get to see you turn around and shoot me like it was nothing, you know, battlefield reflexes are really  _the most attractive thing_ \- I’d let you shoot me again just to-”

“That won’t be necessary.” Arthur muttered, averting his eyes, “I could just take you on one of my hunting trips, if that’s something you want that badly.”

“Would you?” Alfred said, eyes sparkling. “I’d really like to get to know you before we’re engaged. You know, more than just your face.”

Arthur wondered what Alfred would have to say about  _more than just his face._

“I don’t know if I’d like the idea of you finding more to excessively compliment me about.” The words left Arthur’s mouth before he was aware of them and his eyes widened, glancing up to make an apology. He found Alfred smiling almost dreamily instead.

“Forgive me for that,” Alfred said. He leaned back against the cushions of his seat, “I’m just glad that if I’m being arranged to be married, it’s at least with someone I can see myself falling in love with.”

Arthur blinked. He supposed avoiding a blush was far from one of his options at this point, so he settled for a scoff, “Well that’s awfully optimistic. You just met me.”

“Just because everything is arranged doesn’t mean I have to give up on the idea of finding love,” Alfred said in reply, and Alfred once again grew younger in his faith. Arthur remembered a time he thought the same, long ago when he would read picture books in his mother’s lap. “Have you? Given up on love?”

Arthur looked outside, at the rolling greenery, at the fresh blue sky that hugged the expanse of the landscape, pale only in comparison to his fiancé’s eyes.

Arthur looked at Alfred. He looked at the mirth in the curve of Alfred’s smile. He looked at the young King sitting across from him, with a laugh that promised to whisk Arthur away into discovery, into new territories. 

Though Arthur had magic, he had a sneaking suspicion Alfred had more wonder than  _Arthur could ever imagine_ waiting for him, whether it be while they escaped royal duties to explore the kingdom on horseback, or while Alfred continued to muse on about Arthur like he was some sort of treasure to be beheld. Arthur felt a new sort of magic, a nameless feeling, in the blood that rushed to his cheeks whenever Alfred looked at him like that. Like he was practically _biting_ back words to tell Arthur just how attractive he was, how wonderful he was. 

So Arthur cleared his throat. “No, I haven’t.”


End file.
